heavenfaced
by Dorminchu
Summary: One half of the Chosen Four on a bus. A meandering drabble.


_a/n: Look, I'm not dead!_ _Here's a fic to hopefully get back into the swing of things_.

Sitting in the seat beside her with his baseball and backpack laid carelessly at his feet, he notices her blonde hair's gotten a little frizzy. Her dress is crinkled and dirty. Her eyes still shine, sometimes blue, sometimes green in the sunlight. Every bump is jostling to the two children, who remain close without clinging to each other; it's hot, the lack of familiarity notwithstanding.

Ness still can't believe they just met a couple hours ago. He wonders what he's gonna say to Mr. and Mrs. Polestar. She'll probably want to go along with Ness as part of the Chosen Four; what parent would say yes to that? A knot twists in his stomach and he scratches disinterestedly at the uncomfortable seat beneath him. His butt hurts, and he has a headache; PSI is like that, he's discovering, a real strain on the senses.

The bus jolts again at a stop, knocking him out of thought. The driver calls a name of a street or boulevard that doesn't matter. Not their turn. Ness slumps back into the hard seat, adjusting his baseball cap, and represses the need to groan.

He could use a shower. And real food. Saliva accrues inside his mouth and he swallows thickly. All around him, the urge to depart the vehicle is expressed in silence by other passengers. The psychic input is much like a noisy radio he can't re-tune or turn off, already overwhelming without the headache.

The bus itself is hardly occupied. A man in a nice olive suit. A woman and child. _Mother and daughter,_ Paula wonders, and Ness hears the wistful note in her sentiment. He blocks out the thought of her parents' concern.

The hippie-looking guy three rows down won't stop staring at him and Paula. He was on the bus before they arrived. Subconsciously, Ness seeks out the handle of the bat beside him. The rough texture against his fingers provides an odd comfort and he squeezes.

He can sense _something_ emanating from the man. In his eyes, there is no recognizable emotion. The look of an angry dog, a guy with a failed marriage or a lost job, someone just looking for an excuse to push back at the world, share the tragedy, make someone else hurt. Is it Giygas's influence or something more?

Maybe he'll figure it out along the way. He looks over at Paula, who is gazing out the window. Ness can't tell what's got her attention, and the violent glare of the sun and sky against dingy glass makes his eyes hurt, so he pretends to look at his knees while secretly watching the hippie.

He can sense Paula's mind, too, but she's more subdued. Has she already learned how to control her powers? He glances down at her hand and half expects to see damaged skin, raw and red from the aftermath of the last battle with those weird UFO things. But she is unblemished, dainty; well, as dainty as a twelve year-old can be.

Minutes pass. The air is thick and muggy, and permeates the bus. It takes him a while to notice her head is resting on his shoulder. Ness doesn't want to wake her, even though it's only making him more uncomfortable. But he's worried he'll fall asleep and they'll miss their stop.

"Ness?"

She's not asleep like he'd thought. Tipping her head to face him, a little too close for comfort. He doesn't wanna pull away at first but his body wins the mental argument, retracts from her and he's sitting straight. His cap falls, but it's not important.

"Sorry, I—" His voice cracks. Puberty sucks, he decides. It absolutely sucks. "I, uh, thought you were sleeping."

Her eyes are on him and he feels a million times smaller. She reaches for him and he tenses; she smoothes back his hair, unruly. The expression on her face doesn't belie a twelve year-old, docile, almost maternal. It reminds him of home, of mom and Tracy, and how long it's been since he heard either voice over the phone; to his horror, his throat goes tight.

"Are you okay?" she asks suddenly.

"Uh," he says.

Paula sighs, but not in a condescending way. She reaches down and picks up his hat, handing it to him.

Ness tries to thank her. Opens his mouth and closes it again, like a living, breathing caricature.

 _are you heat sick? we can get off the bus._

He's not used to this. He's never gonna get used to this, this closeness between himself and someone else's mind — and it's not just anyone, it's Paula, for crying out loud.

He stammers: "N-no, it's," finishing the thought internally: _fine, that sounds good._

Paula frowns. Like she's testing him for a lie or change of heart.

 _you're acting weird._

He swallows hard. People are taking notice of his outburst. _there's a weird guy a few rows down and the seat makes my butt hurt_.

Paula snorts girlishly. Her eyes turn down. "I feel a little safer with you."

 _Oh_ , he thinks. Then almost laughs because wow, he's the toughest, gnarliest year-old he even knows. Maybe second to Paula, which is still a surreal thought; she's so fragile. He wonders if he looks that way to her, too, randomly aware of how soft her dress is. "Thanks?"

Paula laughs. Then snuffles, revolted. "Oh, jeez," she says. "My nose."

Ness blinks, remembering the UFO's cold-causing beam. "Did it get you, too?"

"Yeah." She makes a face. "You should have packed more cold medicine."

"Why?"

 _Because, I don't want to go down in history as the girl who died of a cold trying to save the world._

"People don't die because of colds," Ness reassures her, but the idea is silly and she's clearly annoyed, and that somehow makes him grin.

"Ness."

"What."

The bus picks up again. He'd forgotten it stopped.

"What?" he says again.

"I think we missed our stop," says Paula, then throws him a look, which is ruined somewhat by her running nose.

His stomach lurches with the vehicle's motion. He exhales, opens a flap in the backpack and rifles around inside.

"All I have is this newspaper," he says, guilty, until she takes it from him.

"Thanks," she says, the words muffled.

"Uh, yeah. No problem." _we should get off once we're closer to the drugstore._

She nods.

Minutes pass in awkward, stuffy silence while the bus makes a loop 'round Twoson's major streets. The hippie guy gets up and Ness is filled with panic again, but the man makes no eye contact as he departs, following the other guy in the suit. It's like Ness doesn't even exist.

Ness waits for the bus to start moving, but it doesn't.

"Hey," says the driver. "You kids lost or something?"

It's a cooldown period, Ness knows without understanding. This guy wants a break from all the traffic.

"She's sick. I think it's, uh, heatstroke."

"Okay. Why is she sitting next to the window?"

Ness wishes he were better at lying. "Can you drive us to the drugstore?"

"For heatstroke. Are you retarded, kid? She'll be dead before you get through the door. I'll take you to the hospital."

Ness is about to protest when Paula responds: _just go with it._

He slumps down in the seat, bumping his tailbone. It smarts.

 _sorry._

 _it's okay, my nose is the only problem. i can walk just fine. if you try to make up another story he'll just get suspicious._

Ness bristles. _yeah, i get it. thanks for the help._

A moment later, he feels stupid. Paula raises her eyebrows.

 _sorry,_ he relents. _it's hot. not you._

She shrugs. _apology accepted._

In a few minutes the bus shudders to a halt next to the hospital, which is really more of a walk-in clinic. Ness has already hooked the backpack around one shoulder. Grasping the wooden bat in preparation for departure, he quickly drops the crumpled bills in the till beside the driver before he takes Paula's hand in his.

 _the drugstore is a block down,_ she reminds him _. then we should go see my parents._

Ness stops, his foot in the air. The bus driver is impatient and concerned, but not for Paula. Ness quickly disembarks the vehicle.

"Okay," he says, his thoughts consumed by the promise of a fresh bottle of water, and maybe a call at the payphone. "Let's go."


End file.
